There's More
by sherlockian4evr
Summary: John has started seeing Ella again. Sherlock thinks he knows why. He's wrong. Beta read by Sherlock1110@ao3.
1. Chapter 1

Sherlock looked up from his laptop as John entered the flat. He could tell that something was bothering the doctor from the sound of his tread on the steps. It was the same something that had been bothering John for weeks, since the case that had taken them out of London. They had been forced to share a room and the doctor had made his usual protests that he wasn't gay. It had irritated the detective to no end. Three days later, they had returned to 221B. Two days after that, John had started seeing Ella again. Sherlock wanted to know why. Of course, he wouldn't ask. He couldn't bear the idea that sharing a room with him had been so traumatic even though they hadn't shared a bed.

Shrugging off his coat, the doctor hung it up, then he walked over to his chair. Instead of sitting in it, he stared at it, then he began pacing. Ella was right. He needed to talk to Sherlock about this, about everything, but it was so incredibly difficult to get started. He turned, determined to begin, but found himself in the kitchen, putting on the kettle. John stewed as he waited for the kettle to boil. Why was this so difficult. He opened his mouth, willing the words to come forth, but they wouldn't. In frustration, he hit the counter top with his fist.

"And how did the counter offend you?" Sherlock asked from just behind the doctor.

John spun around, swearing. He hadn't hear the other man approach. "Sorry. Sorry." He swept a shaking hand over his eyes. "It's been a rough day."

Sherlock narrowed his eyes. "I've had enough of whatever this is, John. I know you're seeing Ella again. Oh, don't look at me like that. It's obvious. And I know why. I make you uncomfortable. Fine. You can at least be a man about it and admit it."

"Wh... What? No! That's not it at all!" John protested. It was about as far from the truth as one could get. He simply had to come clean to Sherlock and he had to do it now.

"Of course you are," the detective sneered. "This crisis started at the inn when we shared a room. I assure you, you haven't caught the gay disease from close proximity to me." That John of all people should be so unthinking, so callous, hurt to no end.

"Shut up and listen. You don't know everything." John's voice shook with suppressed emotion. He turned off the kettle, then sagged against the counter. "It's absolutely not what you think. It's... Christ. Can we go sit down?" He didn't wait for an answer, just went to the living room and took a seat in his chair. John stared at his hands whilst he waited for Sherlock to join him. As soon as the detective had sat, John took a shaky breath and began.

"I haven't slept with anyone since I came back from Afghanistan. I'm not using that as a euphemism for sex. I've had plenty of sex. I mean it literally." John kept his gaze on his hands. "You don't just say that to somebody and you bloody well don't tell them why." Here he paused, grateful when Sherlock didn't rush him to continue. "You don't tell people that you're afraid. You don't tell them that your biggest fear is waking from a nightmare to find that you've killed your bed partner. With my girlfriends, I always had work or you as an excuse. I've had to rush off because you were in trouble enough that they were always willing to believe my excuses." The doctor looked at Sherlock and made a guilty face. "With you..." He sighed. "I'm ashamed of how I handled it. I thought if I played the 'not gay' card, you'd be offended and get another room. Hell, I did it preemptively when I first moved in."

Sherlock laughed bitterly, causing John to look at him questioningly.

"Idiot. Offending me would guarantee just the opposite."

"Yeah. I noticed." John looked back down at his hands. "I've never understood why you put up with me after all of that."

The detective thought for a moment. "Because I always suspected there was something I was missing. However, I was starting to think I was mistaken. For once, I'm glad to have overlooked something."

"Yeah." John forced himself to look at Sherlock. "There's more, if you want to hear it."

"Go on." The detective inclined his head towards John.

"You'd think this part would be easy." John gave a self deprecating laugh. "Right. So. About the whole 'not gay' thing. That's actually a lie. Sort of. I'm bisexual. That makes what I did that much worse because I know how much it can hurt. And it keeps getting worse. I kept doing it. Even after I fell in love with you." John barely looked up, terrified of what he might see.

Sherlock was staring at him, completely nonplussed. He had lived with the idea that his sexuality repelled John for so long. Always, he had lied to himself and said it didn't matter, but there was a wound there that the doctor's words had made and they would need time to heal. He understood why John had said those hurtful words and he thought he could love him. A part of him already did, despite everything, but it would take time.

The doctor took a deep breath, then spoke. "Say something?"

Sherlock stood and walked to the window where he looked out. "Give me time."


	2. Chapter 2

For the last 11 days, John had felt like a stranger in his own home. It wasn't that Sherlock had been avoiding him or had even acted differently. The doctor couldn't put his finger on why he felt so out of place. Perhaps it was his lingering sense of guilt combined with dread. If Sherlock rejected him, if he couldn't forgive John's idiotic mistakes, he didn't think he could take it. He'd have to move on. What if he lost their friendship which was the most important thing in his life? No. He couldn't let that happen.

The doctor was staring at his paper, unseeing when Sherlock broke the awkward silence. "I forgive you, if that's what you need to hear." The detective was sitting at the kitchen table, looking at something with his microscope. He hadn't even lifted his head.

Looking around, John let out a shuddering breath. "Thank you." Was that it? Was that all Sherlock had to say? He supposed he should take it and be grateful for at least that much. Still, the way the detective had said he needed more time... John had been hoping for more. He dropped the paper and leaned forward to rest his elbows on his knees as he closed his eyes. He was so lost in thought that he didn't hear Sherlock walk into the room.

The detective stood watching John. He waited for the moment when John opened his eyes. "There's more."

John blinked. "Alright." He braced himself for whatever might be coming next.

"If I say that a romantic relationship is out of the question, what does that mean for us?" the detective asked.

"That's up to you," John said in a thick voice. "If you're willing to give me time, I'll make myself get over it. You're friendship..." He broke off for a moment, choked up. "You're friendship means everthing to me, no, your happiness means even more than that."

Sherlock nodded, then sat in his chair, his fingers folded beneath his chin. He stared at the doctor for long moments, measuring him. "It's not."

"What?"

"It's not out of the question, a romantic relationship." The detective unfolded his hands and placed them on the arms of his chair. "I simply needed to understand your motivations." Sherlock's heart began to race and he tried to regain control of it. "I... care about you. I never let myself call it love because..."

"Because I was a complete arse." John hung his head in shame. "I don't know if I'll ever be able to forgive myself, even if you really have."

"Of course I have!" Sherlock snapped. "I wouldn't have said it if I hadn't."

"Right. Sorry." After a pause, the doctor asked, "Where do we go for here?"

The detective shifted in his chair and looked at John. "I believe I would like to start with a kiss."

"A kiss?" John couldn't believe he hadn't bollocksed everything up beyond all repair.

"I'll not repeat myself," Sherlock stated flatly.

The doctor stood and crossed over to stand in front of Sherlock. Just as he was about to ask if the other man was going to stand, the detective turned his face up expectantly. John laughed self consciously and bent to kiss him, but Sherlock pulled him down onto his lap.

"What..."

The detective pressed their lips together. Insistently. After waiting so long, he wasn't going to wait any longer now that a decision had been made.

John had expected to be the one to take the lead, but between being pulled down onto Sherlock's lap and the detective's tongue delving into his mouth, taking possession, he was completely overwhelmed. When the kiss broke, he was left gasping, staring at his flatmate... boyfriend in astonishment. It must have shown on his face, because Sherlock smirked at him.

"I'm not a virgin."

"Yeah. Good. Right." John licked his lips. "That doesn't mean we have to rush things." Even though the doctor wanted to. He wanted to be dragged down the hall to Sherlock's bedroom and emphatically rush things.

"Do you love me, John?"

"Yes."

"And I feel the same about you." Sherlock nipped at the doctor's earlobe. "We're grown men. We know what we want."

John remembered what had caused all of this in the first place. "I can't stay... after." He looked down in shame at his brokenness. "When you fall asleep and wake up later, you'll be alone."

The detective hugged John to him. "Perhaps you won't sleep by my side, but you're mine. Mine. No one else's. That's all that matters."

For the first time in a long time, John felt hope - hope for the future he would now have with his mad detective. It was more than he could have asked for, more than he felt he deserved.


End file.
